


Way Down Inside, You Need Love

by Findmehere



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Anxiety Disorder, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester, F/M, Fix-It, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester, Post-Canon, Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Verse Dean/Cas, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29570991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findmehere/pseuds/Findmehere
Summary: Post Canon starting after 15x19. This story is what could have happened if it was okay to be queer figuring out what that means, while still being masc... on network television... at the age of 42. This is just how I see it playing out — like a continuation rather than and ending.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Kaia Nieves & Claire Novak, Kaia Nieves/Claire Novak
Kudos: 11





	1. Ch 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry chapters got out of order, fixed now!
> 
> This fic is less sci-if and more angst than my other work. (Even in Heaven) it started as a one off but grew into something that felt very real to me. There are lots of anxiety related moments and internalized homophobia, please be warned. There will be a ch. that deals with suicide, but I will warn you in the notes.

Dean had had a few too many. They just eviscerated a nest of vamps and he had nearly been skewered by a piece of rebar. Cas had grabbed him at the last second and Sam took the vamp’s head off with a steady swing. Dean was glad Cas had shown up, but he was pretty surprised considering how little he had seen of the angel since he and Jack were up there rebuilding heaven. 

After everything that happened with Billie, Dean knew he should be grateful, he owed Cas his life, but every time he looked at the angel he remembered that black ooze and the feeling of the cold bricks against his back as he watched it take his best friend. The best friend that had just told him he was not an instrument of destruction, the one who was in love with him. Instead of feeling grateful, though, he resented the sight of the angel, he resented being left with this weight on his shoulders, and mostly he resented that he knew how Cas felt. Everything between them felt so fraught with meaning now. Every time Cas stared a little too long it felt like he was baring his love for the whole world to see, and Dean supposed he was. The angel felt no shame, it made him happy to love Dean. This was the most baffling thing of all.

So, Dean was drunk, and Sam had taken the Impala to go see Eileen. 

“I don’t trust you with these keys,” he had said, “Call an Uber.”

“A fucking Uber?” Dean yelled at Sam’s back, before quickly downing his bourbon and shaking the glass toward his waitress with a smirk. 

That was when he saw her, the cute brunette at the end of the bar. Her eyes had that same glassy look as his own and they were fixed on Dean, her lips crooked in a delicious smile. He tilted his head in a nod of acknowledgement, before looking back down at his empty glass. Cas was still sitting beside him, drinking quietly even though the alcohol barely affected him, and when Dean looked over at him he was staring into his glass as if he were counting each molecule. 

“You good, man?” Dean asked, as the waitress set down the next round.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas replied looking up at the hunter.

Dean took a swig of his fresh drink, “You sure? You look like hell.”

Cas smirked at the irony, “I am an instrument of heaven Dean, I doubt I share any similarities to hell. However, I suppose you are asking if I am upset about something. I am fine.”

Dean chuckled, “I think I taught you that line.”

“Yes, you did.”

“So are you really fine?” Dean asked looking back over at the brunette, “or you taking a page out of my book?”

Cas looked at Dean inquisitively, like he was trying to parse the true meaning of his words. Dean got lost for a moment in that look, the way that Cas’s eyes always seems to hold his captive and finally Cas took a deep breath and looked back down at his drink.

“Dean, you could have died today. You would have died today had I not intervened when I did.” 

Dean scoffed, “Look Cas, I appreciate your help with the vamps, but I would have been fine.”

“No,” Cas said, a rough edge to his already husky voice, “You would have died. I saved you… again.”

Cas’s words hit Dean like a bolder and he struggled against the memory that would come up. Cas being swallowed by the empty, the I love you, the goodbye still ringing in his ears. The cold bricks against his back. The quiet empty room. Cas gone, again.

Dean had often wondered why he had been forced to live his worst nightmares over and over again. He had lost everyone and everything he loved so many times he could no longer remember what it felt like to be without loss. 

“I am grateful, Cas,” he finally said, his fingers pressing into the condensation on his glass. 

“Are you Dean?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Before Cas had a chance to answer he brunette was placing her hand on Dean’s shoulder, demanding his attention. 

“Hey,” she said, her mouth turning up in a seductive smile, “you wanna buy me a beer?”

Dean smiled his most lazy, endearing smile, “Sure, sweetheart.”

He felt lucky to escape this conversation with Cas, but when he walked over to the bar there was a burning pang of guilt in his gut. He glanced back over his shoulder to look at Cas. His eyes were shining and his shoulders were slumped beneath his oversized trench coat. Dean pressed down the desire to go back to the table and comfort his friend, What good would come of it, he thought, and turned back to the girl who was now leaning toward him. 

“I’m Tessa,” she said.

“Dean,” he said, pointing at the beer in her hand and gesturing to the bartender for two more. 

“Well Dean,” she said, “tell me about yourself.”

“Not much to tell there,” he lied.

“I doubt that very much,” she said, “but I guess you’re the strong but silent type.”

Dean laughed a little at this, his eyes crinkling. He felt warm and thought that maybe he was just drunk enough to enjoy this, so he leaned in, “I can make noise when I need to.”

“I bet you can,” Tessa answered, tilting her beer toward his.

Their bottles clinked, and he smirked the way women always seemed to love. He knew how to do this, he knew how to flirt. He knew how to say the right thing to make someone just as lonely and hard up as he was feel a little more valuable in a moment. Dean was the master of making other people feel wanted, and the master of pushing them away.

After a few minutes, Tessa had her hand on Dean’s thigh and was rubbing dangerously close to his groin. He looked back over his shoulder reflexively and Cas was gone. His heart sank for a moment and he suddenly felt nauseated. He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, but the room had started spinning a bit. 

Tessa leaned in, her hot breath rustling against his ear, “You want to get out of here baby?”

Then he kissed her. Her lips were soft, but her mouth tasted like an ash-tray. Dean tried to think about what was on the surface — soft lips, hot breath, the hand trailing up his thigh — tried to push everything else down and just feel, but his head was beginning to pound and he pulled away.

“Well, I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, a flush running up her neck from the kiss and the alcohol.

Hearing the slur in her voice, watching as she went in and out of focus, and thinking about the tobacco on her breath, Dean felt his interest wein. Suddenly the mystique was shattered, the illusion gone. No one liked a quick fuck with a hot stranger more than Dean Winchester, but he was too drunk and felt too broken. If he were twenty he would take her in the bathroom stall and have all kinds of fun, but at forty-two, he just felt tired. 

Standing up suddenly and balancing himself against the bar, he threw a few bills down in front of him, “Sounds like a blast, but not tonight honey. This should cover your drink.”

Without looking back to register the disappointment on her face, he turned and walked out into the cold night air. It was just sobering enough that he was able to remember what Sam had said about Uber. He was about to put that into the search engine on his phone when he heard his name.

Sitting on a bench about twenty feet away was Cas. Dean could not help but feel slightly annoyed at the frustrated look on the angel’s face. 

“What are you doing out here?” He said, shaking his head.

“You are quite enebriated Dean as was the woman you were with. I did not feel inclined to save you twice in one day if either of you chose to drive,” Castiel spat the words at Dean.

“Listen wings,” Dean spat back with twice as much venom, “I can take care of myself.”

“No, Dean,” Cas stood up and took a few steps toward him, his brow furrowed and expression stern, “I don’t think you can.”

Dean took a step toward Cas as well, forcing himself to stay steady as the waves of his own drunkenness washed over him, “What the hell, Cas. What is your problem.”

Cas rolled his eyes, “My problem is you. You are living like we are still fighting the forces of heaven and hell. I see how you live Dean, you are unhappy and you're rude, and you hurt the people around you. Why won’t you even try to be happy. I gave my life for that you know.”

Cas had not meant it to come out so harsh, but he had watched Dean from the shadows for months and his life had become a steady routine of fighting too hard, drinking too much, and sleeping too little. When Jack had come back to the bunker a few days after stopping Chuck, Cas had been by his side. The empty had traded Cas for a promise at eternal sleep which Jack had granted. For the first time since he had dragged Dean out of hell he felt his full power again, and although he was saddened at the burden placed on Jack’s shoulders he very quickly realized that Jack’s humanity made him the best possible steward of the power he possessed. Jack wanted to watch over his family, but to interfere as little as possible. There was a simplicity in Jack’s plan, and Cas was confident in his son. So, when he appeared in the bunker with Jack it had nearly broken him to see Dean, halfway through a bottle, passed out over the kitchen table. He had carried him to his room and watched over him through a fitful night sleep. 

That morning when Dean opened his eyes, Cas was there, waiting to greet the hunter. Dean had shot up in the bed, pulling his gun from under the pillow and pointing it right at the angel’s temple. Cas should have expected this, Dean would never trust anything good. 

“What are you?”

“Dean,” Cas had said, his hands up, “It’s me, Jack brought me back.”

“Jack,” Dean said it like a question, his bare chest heaving, “when?” 

“Last night,” Cas explained, slowly lowering his hands, “he’s here. He is with Sam now.”

“Cas?”

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean had slowly lowered the gun and stood pulling on a shirt that was discarded by the bed. He walked to where Cas stood and wrapped his arms around the angel, pressing his face into Cas’s shoulder. Tears slid down his face and onto Cas’s trench coat.

“Cas.”

This was how Dean had greeted him after he was saved from the empty, but in the weeks that followed anytime Cas was around Dean was distant. Although Cas knew very little about human sexual identity, he assumed that Dean’s discomfort stemmed from heteronormative ideas that Dean so clearly fought to display. It was something that made no sense to the angel who, although he felt that his vessel was as real to him as his angelic form, found the distinctions and labels of humans overly complicated. He loved Dean, he was in love with him, but he felt unable to be ashamed of that fact. Regardless of the hunter’s ability to return his feelings, it was true for him, and it brought him a great deal of joy. Until, that was, Dean began to put a marked distance between them. After that initial embrace, Dean avoided touching him, or sometimes even looking at him. Cas had asked Sam about it and had been surprised that Sam was unaware of the circumstances which had led to his time in the Empty. 

“What are you saying Cas?” Sam asked, his puppy-dog eyes wide with surprise.

Cas tilted his head in confusion, “I am saying that the Empty took me because I found true happiness in telling Dean how I felt. I love him Sam.”

Sam smirked despite himself, “Yeah, I know you do Cas. Dean just never told me that is why it took you.”

“Oh,” Cas said, “I assumed that he would have told you and Jack, I did not realize that he wouldn’t want anyone to know.”

Sam shook his head slowly, “Yeah, sorry Cas. Dean is not the most forthcoming person.”

“That is true Sam,” Cas had replied, hoping that he had not shared something that Dean would not want shared. 

They had not spoken about it since, but Cas had kept his distance after that day. Hoping that Dean would eventually find a way to feel comfortable around him again. Right now, Cas could not feel sympathy for his friend, he only felt anger. It rushed through him more viciously than he thought was possible toward Dean. His vessel thrummed with it.

“Fuck you, Cas,” Dean said, his voice rising, “That is the second time you have brought that up tonight. I never asked you to do that for me.”

Cas felt as hurt as if Dean had slashed him with his angel blade, “How can you say that? I saved you because I love you Dean.”

Dean took a few more steps, “And there is that. You say that like it’s easy. You said it and then you got sucked up into nothing. I couldn’t… I didn’t even…” 

“What?” Cas asked, hoping that Dean would just say it. He cannot love me.

Dean balled his hands into fists, his head spun a little and he tried to focus. 

Cas stepped forward again,“What? Why is that so disgusting to you? I wanted nothing from you Dean, just for you to live, and once again you repay me like this.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” they both turned to see Tessa, the brunette, standing by the bar entrance, taking a long drag from her cigarette. She was watching Cas and Dean with a satisfied expression, “You could have just said you were gay, ya know. Would have saved me the disappointment.”

Dean flinched, “I’m… you’ve got it wrong.”

“Yeah,” she laughed, taking another drag, “Sure I do honey. Tell that to your boyfriend.”

Dean looked at Cas and immediately registered the hurt that was on his face. Something was forming at the base of his throat, choking him. Finally the woman stomped out her cigarette butt, and walked back into the bar making sure to shoot them one last knowing glance before the door shut behind her. 

“I’ll take you back now,” Cas said before placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Suddenly, they were standing in front of the bunker. Cas turned as if to leave but Dean stopped him, grabbing the angle by the wrist. 

“Cas,” he said, looking down, “I’m not disgusted, man. It’s just, there are things… It is not easy for me, Cas. I don’t know what to trust. All these things… and you saw that woman. I don’t know…”

Dean knew he was not making any sense, but the combination of the alcohol and the events of the day were beginning to catch up to him. He felt like he was on shaky ground, like he would be trampled if did not gird himself against the onslaught of feeling that was barreling toward him.

In the back of his mind there was a conversation that had been ongoing since Cas was taken. It was a conversation about why Dean was so unhappy. It was a conversation about why he did not trust himself. It was a conversation about an argument he had been having with himself ever since he was fifteen years old. 

That was because when he was fifteen, he had been friendly with a fellow hunter, an older boy that was a son of one of Bobby’s friends. As they had driven back to the motel that night, John Winchester leaned across the front seat of the Impala and grabbed Dean’s shoulder, “Dean, you gotta lock that shit down. I know you think you’re hot stuff and will flirt with anything with a pulse, but you have to think about the kind of man you want to be. The kind of role model for Sammy. No one will take you seriously as a man or a hunter if you keep up that sissy business.”

The memory hit him like a ton of bricks now. Dean heard a sob and realized it had come from him. He had failed, all that time, all that work and here he was standing in front of a literal angel, wishing to be held, comforted. He would never stop hurting, never. 

“Dean?” Cas was pulling him in, reflexively, pressing his hands firmly into Dean’s back. 

“Cas,” he said, “I’m sorry.” 

He pushed Cas away gently and started to turn toward the bunker, this time it was Cas who grabbed him. 

“No,” Cas said firmly, “No Dean, you need to help me understand. This is unbearable. I do not understand what is wrong.”

Dean pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath. His lip quivered and he silently cursed himself for crying this way. Misty-eyed was fine, blubbering was not. He ran his free hand down his face as the tears ebbed, and tried for the most nonchalance he could muster. 

“I’m sorry man,” he said finally, “I’m just drunk, I don’t know what I mean. I’m gonna hit the sack.”

This should have worked, Cas normally did not push. More often than not, Dean abused that, knowing he could take out his frustrations on his friend and they would just push past it. This time, however, Cas was holding his arm with heavenly strength, unwilling to look away. 

“No,” Cas said again, “This is unbearable to me Dean, please just help me understand.”

There were very few times in his life that Dean Winchester had ever felt helpless, this was one of them. He could not look away from Cas’s open expression. Within moments of meeting Cas had read right through him. 

“You don’t think you deserve to be saved,” was what he had said the first time they met, he had realized it almost immediately. He knew that Dean hated himself, blamed himself, and felt himself to be a weapon: Daddy’s blunt instrument, Michael’s sword, Chuck’s ultimate killer. Yet, Cas loved him anyway. Dean had never felt less worthy of anything.

Dean felt his knees going weak beneath him, and he pressed his free hand to Cas’s shoulder. His insides were churning, and he felt like he might be sick, and he absolutely refused to be sick. Sucking in a large breath of fresh air he found his feet. 

“Cas,” he said finally, “Come inside. I will try and explain… I will. But I need to either get a lot more drunk, or sober up a bit first. Capisce?” 

Cas loosened his grip and nodded. They walked into the bunker silently and Cas followed Dean into the kitchen where he hoped the hunter would make a pot of coffee. Instead, he poured himself a large glass of water, downing it quickly before filling the glass with bourbon. 

“Dean,” Cas sighed, “I think you’ve had a sufficient amount of alcohol tonight.”

“Cas, if you want to talk, these are my terms,” he said, raising the glass and shaking it toward the angel.

Rolling his eyes, Cas decided not to fight about it, at least he was talking. They both sat at the long kitchen table. It was silent for a while, while Dean tried to think of where to start. Suddenly, he realized he really did not know what Cas wanted from him. How could he possibly start.

“Okay man,” Dean said, “What do you want me to say.”

Cas tilted his head toward Dean, “I do not want you to say anything specifically, I only want to know why you are so unhappy.”

Dean set his glass down and racked his hand across his face a few times and then ran his fingers through his hair. He had no idea where to begin.

“Other than a few very specific memories, I don’t know that I have ever really been happy,” He said finally.

Cas frowned, “That is understandable. Chuck put you through so much.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, catching a thread, “and there is that… my life feels like a story someone told me now. How is any of it real if so little of it was in my actual control. I’m basically middle-aged now, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.”

“You have free will Dean,” Cas said fondly, “You can do whatever you want.”

“Can I?” He said finally looking at Cas, “Then what do I want?”

The angel’s brow furrowed, his vessel had been through so much, it had aged more than an angel normally would have, and there were fine lines at the corners of his eyes and on his forehead. He searched Dean, trying to find an answer that would sooth the hunter, but he had lived since the beginning of time and only just found what he wanted. Once he found it, he knew he could not have it. 

“I don’t know,” Cas answered, sadness in his voice, “but I wish I could help you, you are capable of anything. You are the best person I know.”

There it was again, Dean thought, unconditional-undeserved love. Cas had absolutely no poker face, and his affection and adoration were written plainly there with no shame and no pretense. For a moment, Dean just let it wash over him. Then his stomach tightened. 

“You’re not human Cas, you barely know anything about life away from all this shit,” Dean waved his hand around him, “this is not normal. I am not worth it.”

“You presume to tell me what I do and do not know. I watched the world form, I have seen the edge of the universe, and I stitched you back together. I know exactly what I mean. You are simply refusing to hear me,” Cas stood now, suddenly angry, suddenly an angel, “I know who you are, and I gave up my life for you. So, do me a favor and just stop trying so hard to die.” 

Dean felt stunned, for the second time that night he had managed to make Cas angry when he was only trying to tell him the truth. He put his hands up defensively and then pointed at the seat where Cas had been sitting. Cas rolled his eyes again, even more dramatically than before, and sat back down. 

“I don’t want to die, Cas. Not really. I just have no idea what I’m doing anymore. I…” he hesitated, “I just feel like you want me to have it all figured out but I don’t man. I’m just not sure about anything anymore.”

There was something in Dean’s expression in that moment that puzzled Cas. He knew all Dean’s looks, he could draw studies of all the masks Dean wore, all the true faces he sometimes showed, but there was something desperate in his eyes now. It startled the angel. He had fought in wars and seen the depths of hell, but here he was startled by Dean Winchester. 

Dean was caught in Castiel’s gaze. Eyes that he knew so well once again searching him and Dean felt exposed, as if he stood naked in front of him. He was stuck, though, unable to unglue his green eyes from the angel’s blue ones. His heart started to thunder in his chest, and his fingers were tingling with anxiety. 

Castiel felt frustration beyond his normal, steady frustration with Dean. After all, this was Dean who said ‘I’m fine’, this was Dean who used violence and alcohol as bandages, this was Dean who walked away from love because he could not stand himself. Cas was not sure why he was pushing, and he knew he was pushing Dean. He wanted to know, wanted to understand, and outside of reaching into his mind, this was the best he could do. So he pushed.

“Dean,” Cas spoke first, breaking the tension, “I wish you would speak freely. There is no Chuck, no script, and we are alone. I know you are uncomfortable around me now, and I’ve kept my distance, but Dean, I do not understand why knowing I love you is so offensive. I know you are my friend, that’s enough. I would never ask more of you. I want you to be happy Dean. Why are you so unhappy?”

It was that question again, Dean could not understand why Cas kept asking it, but every time it cracked him open a little more.

“Cas, Goddammt! I’m not offended. You just… well, you saw that woman tonight, how she looked at us, at me. Over the years, haven’t we heard all the jokes, the jabs about the two of us. Even those damn kids pulled it off the pages of Chuck’s books and wrote it in their musical. What if that was Chuck, too. Messing with us?”

Dean raked his hands across his face again, he hated this, he did not want to talk about it — the ulcerative thing inside him — but here was Cas who had saved him again and again, and he was asking. 

“I’m unhappy because I don’t know what to do about you and me. I lost you Cas, right after you said… right after. I’m unhappy because I’m broken. I’m unhappy because I’m fucking terrified. I thought free will would feel so good, but I feel more trapped than ever. Just… tell me what you want from me, man.” 

Cas understood quantum mechanics. He knew how to speak every language, and he understood the foibles of heaven and hell, but this was baffling.

“Dean,” he said leaning toward the hunter slightly, “there is nothing to do. Live your life, find peace, make a family. You tried once, with Lisa, try again. Just try Dean.”

Dean’s head was truly spinning now, he was drunk, he was busted open, he was in pain, and Castiel was so good. He loved him so much, the way Dean had always wanted to be loved. Without knowing why, without really thinking, he moved forward quickly, his eyes closed and pressed his lips to Cas’s. It was too fast, too off-center, and too sloppy, but when he pulled back the look on the angel's face tore him open in an entirely new way. 

For a moment, Cas was still, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Slowly though, he began to feel uneasy. He may not understand human emotions but he had been inebriated before and he knew that it dulled your decision making faculties. Dean was watching him, and Cas felt like he had to escape.

Cas stood up, “I think you should go to bed Dean.”

Confused, Dean stood and took a few paces toward Cas, “What?”

“I think you are quite drunk, and I am unsure how wise it is to continue this conversation.”

Dean took another step,”Cas, I was drunk at that bar and you let me kiss that woman.”

“Well…” Cas stuttered, “yes, but you kiss lots of women Dean, it’s not a problem for you. I don’t think you often regret it when you’re sober.”

Dean considered this, “Sober me up, Cas.”

“What?”

“Do your little angel voodoo and sober me up.”

Cas was annoyed that Dean had called it voodoo, his grace was pure, it was a universal force, not simple human magic, but he still reached out and touched his fingers to Dean's head. He cleared his body of any trace of alcohol, purifying his blood. When he pulled his hand away, he saw that Dean’s eyes were no longer glassy.

“Well,” Dean said, “that’s new.”

Cas did not reply, he did not like using his grace in this way. When he healed someone he liked to know that he was truly helping them. Somehow, he did not think Dean would benefit from knowing there was a way out of a hangover.

With every sober moment that passed Dean was regretting it, the second the alcohol was gone the anxiety set in ten-fold. He had wanted to kiss Cas as an experiment, but that was not fair. Cas was no experiment, he was one of the most important beings in the universe. His heart sank with guilt.

Registering this regret, Cas spoke,”Now, perhaps you should go to bed.”

“No, I… I’m sorry,” Dean willed himself to make this right, but he did not know where to start.

“Please, do not apologize. I know that you wanted to give me some sort of comfort. That is not necessary, we can forget it.”

Dean knew he was fucking this up, he was hurting Cas, and he was a coward. Cas wanted him to be happy, Chuck was gone, Jack was God, and he yet he was still fighting old battles. Cas was right, he was unhappy because he was not trying to live. 

So, Dean decided in a moment to do something so uncharacteristic that it nearly knocked the angel off balance, “Look into my head, Cas. Just see what I think about us, see what I felt when you were gone.”

“Dean,” Cas shook his head, “that is not necessary. I know you value your privacy.”

“Cas,” he said, keeping his voice steady, “I’m asking here. I can’t talk about this shit. I can't, and I’m just going to keep saying the wrong thing. So, just see for yourself.”

“Dean, I…”

“Just do it, Cas,” Dean insisted, sitting down on the closest bench.

Cas moved to stand before him, placing his hands on either side of Dean’s head, he hesitated just a moment until the hunter nodded, looking resolute. He reached out with his grace into Dean’s mind. He had been here before with Sam, when he was looking for where Micheal had trapped Dean, but all he saw was mountains of trauma, and the little corner that Dean had been sequestered to. It was different now, with Dean in control of his own thoughts and the memories he wanted Cas to see flooded to the surface. There were memories of battles they had fought, of course, both as enemies and as comrades, and there were memories of comfort when they leaned on each other for hope when it was hopeless. The memories shifted quickly along with all the feelings that Cas expected — anger, affection, triumph, fear, hope, doubt, kinship — until suddenly, there was something different. There were memories of conversations they had when the world was not ending for a moment, times they had made each other smile, Cas felt warm as these memories washed over him. Just as suddenly, the visions turned dark and it was a laundry list of all the times Dean had watched him die, over and over again. Cas felt the grief in Dean as he was lost to him. One memory begged to be seen, it was different, the edges of it soft like the opening of a magnolia blossom, the memory was dear to Cas as well, it was after the empty had released him the first time. He did not know how Dean had felt seeing him standing in that alley, the light from a neon cross illuminating the scene, but he could feel it now, and he knew it for what it was. The feeling flooded this memory, and it lingered inside Dean painting the edges of his soul. Then without warning the memories shifted, they felt different and Cas was not sure Dean had meant these to spill forward, memories of John Winchester the word ‘sissy’ still on his lips, and then there was an oozing cancerous feeling that shot through Dean, then it was Benny smiling, and a few other blurry faces the edges of a kiss and something else, something darker. The images were chaotic and shifting so quickly Cas was sure he was not meant to see this. He was about to pull away when a memory shot to the surface so forcefully that it caused him to lurch forward. It was him, being swallowed by the empty, Billie right behind him, and Dean’s sense of helplessness as he curled onto the floor, the sense of grief was like a lead weight on his chest. Dean folded into himself, crying into his hands, ignoring the buzzing phone beside him. Cas pulled away, unable to stand that grief any longer, understanding that it was the same grief he knew so well. It swallowed him in blackness worse than the blackness of the empty, and he could not help the tears that spilled at feeling what Dean had endured when he was taken. 

They stayed there for a moment, both men, their heads bent as if in prayer, unable to look at one another. Finally, Cas knelt before Dean, penitently. He took the hunters hands in his and kissed them as if they were holy relics. Dean loved him, he was sure of it now, but Cas felt sick that he had endured so much for his sake. Dean was made of trauma, he was built by it, but Cas never thought about how much of that had come at his hands, wittingly or not. He felt sick with shame.

“You saw everything?” Dean asked, his chest still heaving from having endured the angel’s grace.

“I saw, Dean,” Cas replied, trying to catch Dean’s eyes.

“Then you know,” he said, still looking at the ground.

“I know,” Cas replied.

Dean looked up, and pulled Cas against him in a desperate hug, his breath becoming even. He leaned his head against Cas’s neck, just as he had done the morning he had come back with Jack, the morning he had almost told him everything in his relief from the anguish that buried him. Their bodies were close, thrumming with realization, and neither of them had the strength to retreat. So, they stayed like that for a long time, just holding on for dear life.

It was Cas who pulled away first, “Dean I’m so sorry. I’m here now, I’m here.” 

Dean just shook his head a little, too overwhelmed to speak, he felt the knot of fear in his abdomen release a little bit. He had been put on the rack, he had watched the world burn, been a play thing for God and the Devil, and through it all he never really felt like he was worth a damn. Cas was the only one who told him, as many times and in as many ways as he could that he was important, that he was worth loving, and that he was worth saving. Losing him had felt like dying more than any real death ever had, it was worse. So, he had pushed himself the only way he knew how and the only way that his father had ever taught, he hunted monsters and took risks and kept his insides together with sarcasm and hard liquor. 

“I’m here Dean,” Cas said again, pressing his forehead against Dean’s. He could feel the man shivering beneath him, and his heart broke all over again. 

“I got you,” he said pulling him close again, “I’ve got you.”

Eventually, Cas was able to convince Dean to get some sleep, he helped the hunter take off his boots and jacket, and pulled the covers around him. There was no weakness in Dean, no frailty in him either. There was only a sadness that went so deep it permeated the marrow in his bones. Cas wished he could cleanse him of this sadness as he had of the alcohol, instead he watched over his hunter through the night, and tried to love him just a little bit less, because he thought it might kill him to love him more.


	2. Ch. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Deals with some painful memories, but Cas is always there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with anxiety and mentions homophobia, there is also violence toward a member of the gay community who is unnamed.   
> Bit of a spoiler, but this man will get justice, because violence toward the queer community is nothing to blow past.

Inside the bunker bedrooms there was no natural light, so morning did not wake Dean. The day was melting into afternoon and Cas had listened to the steady sound of his breathing as he waded through the events of the previous night. He should have felt triumphant to have earned the love of this righteous man, because it was the closest to God he would ever be, but the weight of that love felt more cumbersome now that he knew what was at stake. Suffering for himself alone was no trial at all, he had become accustomed to it. Watching Dean suffer felt like tiny nicks from his angel blade all over his celestial skin. 

Cas walked through all the events that had led him here, to this bedside, and he wondered how he could have been so utterly selfish. There was this assumption that because of the gravitas which all those around Dean Winchester saw and attempted to emulate, nothing could really touch him. Cas had watched him struggle, knew the pain that had plagued him, but he still believed that when the job was done Dean would thrive. It was a new piece of the puzzle of humanity, the idea that the end of one story marked a beginning of another. So, Cas assumed Dean would begin again, like new, but he forgot that this was not a new book, but a sequel. A sequel that began at the breaking of this man, who had been broken so many times that his soul was like a stained glass mural — beautifully pieced together from all the fragments of its cursed existence. Even as a child Dean had never been allowed to really feel anything but loyalty and pain. He felt that all his life amounted to was saving others, but in every loss, big or small, he watched the scoreboard stack for the other side. Castiel was an angel, he walked among humans but he was privy to so much more power, he was capable of seeing the larger frame and the larger picture. Dean was a man, and his life was made up of so much less grandier and so much more pain, which considering the scale was more than any one human should have been forced to bear. Cas would give his wings, his grace, and his life to release Dean from his burdens, but if he could not he would stay by his side forever as a friend or anything Dean might wish. 

At around noon there was a soft knock on the door, Dean stirred but did not wake, and Cas went to open it. It was Sam, and Cas registered the look of confusion that covered his face to see the angel come from around the door, softly shutting it behind him. 

“Dean is sleeping,” Cas said quietly.

“Oh,” Sam replied, “is he alright?”

“He will be, yes,” Cas shifted, “he just needed to rest.”

Sam nodded, “yeah…”

Cas could tell that Sam wanted more of an explanation, but he was not at liberty to share anything, Dean deserved privacy, even from his brother.

Realizing Cas was not going to say more Sam finally took a step back, “Okay, well, Eileen is here with me today. We are just going to be around, maybe watch a movie in my room...just let him know when he wakes up.”

“Of course,” Cas said, forcing a small smile.

He watched Sam retreat down the hallway before opening the door to Dean’s room and quietly padding back inside. He shut the latch with as little sound as possible, but when he turned around, Dean was watching him propped up on one arm, his eyes squinting. 

Cas froze, he had seen Dean in the morning before, many times in fact, but never in the bunker, never in Dean’s own room, and never after holding him the way he had the night before. Dean smirked at him, yawning a bit into his fist. 

“Mornin’, was that Sammy?” He asked, stretching his arms up over his head.

“Yes, just checking on you. You slept rather later than usual.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean said, pressing a finger to his phone until it flashed the time.

The phone screen read half past noon, Dean blinked twice looking at it. He could not remember the last time he had slept that late, or that long. He felt it in his bones, there was a lack of pain in his joints and muscles, and he was not hungover thanks to Cas. 

“Well,” he said, “I guess afternoon coffee it is.”

Dean stood up, and put his robe over his shoulders. Cas suddenly felt as though he was intruding, he did not usually linger in Dean’s presence both as a form of self-preservation and because Dean appreciated his space. 

“I’ll leave you be,” Cas said, starting toward the door. 

“Cas,” Dean called after him, “Nah, you and I are going to hang out today.”

Dean was a little uncomfortable, he knew that a barrier had been crossed with Cas, but to his own surprise he was not eager to rebuild that wall. There had been a moment, as Cas held him that turned on the lights inside him. Despite himself, and his hang-ups and fears, he wanted to keep that light going. He felt he should try, and the way Cas was standing by the door, trying to hide a crooked smile, Dean felt he wanted to try.

“Come on feathers,” he said to Cas as he pulled the door opened and headed to the kitchen.

He could hear laughter as he passed Sam’s room and he knew Eileen must be there. Eileen was so good for Sam, and Dean felt that Sam had finally found someone that could be a part of their messed up family and fit like a glove. He thought about knocking but he did not want to spoil any fun they might be having so he kept his pace toward the kitchen.

Once the coffee was made, Dean pulled a few pieces of bacon from a container in the fridge and grabbed a pack of pop tarts from the pantry. 

“Breakfast of champions,” he said to Cas, who was standing by the entrance to the bunker kitchen, surreptitiously running his eyes over everything but Dean, “Day off, we are hanging out in the Dean cave.”

He did a once over of the angel and smiled at his uniform: suit, tie, trenchcoat.

“Cas, go to my room and grab sweatpants and a t-shirt from my hamper on the desk. Put them on, and meet me in the cave,” he took a bite of bacon and mocked, “If we are going to hang out, I refuse to let you look like the holy accountant all day.”

Cas had no real need for clothing other than human modesty, but he wanted to make Dean happy, so he did not argue. In Dean’s room he found a pair of worn grey sweatpants and a plain blue t-shirt. He felt a strange thrill go through him as he donned Dean’s clothing, there was something unexpectedly intimate about the gesture, and without knowing why he inhaled the scent of the hunter off the shirt as he pulled it over his head. It was detergent and Dean, and Cas felt very human for a moment as his pulse quickened. 

When he got to the cave, Dean was sitting on the large sofa in front of the tv, he eyed Cas and his lips twitched for a moment, before breaking into an irrepressible smile. He loved the way Cas looked in his clothes, and a little shiver passed through him at the sight. 

“Lookin’ good, Cas,” he said, scooting on the sofa to make room for the angel. 

It felt a little strange to sit on the couch together, but all the rules seemed to be changing by the minute and they were both just adjusting as they went. Dean had Tombstone already paused on the opening credit and pressed play when Cas sat down. In reality, Cas had no interest in watching this movie again, but he would not complain. Also, he doubted whether he could focus on anything in a new film while he and Dean sat so unusually close, their knees nearly touching.

Half way through the movie Dean moved his hand to the empty space between them palm up. It was obvious and felt like something high school girls did, but considering that Dean had never really had a chance at normal, maybe starting at the very beginning was good. Cas was an angel, but the real miracle is that he understood what Dean was asking for, and he pulled his hand into his own, interlacing their fingers and gently rubbing the inside of Dean’s wrist with his thumb. It felt chaste and innocent, which were words Dean had never ascribed to himself in his whole life. Yet, it sent small little shocks down his spine and he made his limbs tingle. Dean knew how to fuck, he could even be tender, but he had always been the one in charge, the protector. Castiel made him feel like maybe he was something precious and worth protecting.

Cas was focusing on staying still, his urges were growing more human by the minute, but he would not cross any lines, he would let Dean lead. He could be content with holding Dean’s hand and not having him pull away. Every time their hands had touched up to this point they never lingered but Cas could recall the way it shot sparks through him. Even in the heat of battle when their knuckles were bloodied and bruised the slightest touch from Dean felt like a gift. 

The movie ended and Dean let the credits roll all the way to the end, he was quickly becoming addicted to the feel of Cas’s soft hand against his calloused one, and he did not want to separate their interlocking fingers. The most incredible part was that the ulcer in his stomach stayed quiet, it was normally a loud and angry thing that burned and screamed, but it was silent. Dean could not help the words that escaped him, he felt almost euphoric.

“Cas...I’m not gay, but this…,” he could not say more, so he just looked at their joined hands. 

Cas really did not want to ruin this moment, he had promised not to push Dean, but his words had stung bitterly, “There is nothing I like better than being close to you, Dean… but I wish you would not say that. Your sexual orientation is of no import to me, except for as it pertains to your own self-loathing.” 

“What?” Dean said, pulling back his hand, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Dean, I don’t think you meant for me to see a few of the memories I saw in your mind yesterday.”

Dean did not respond, but his mouth fell open slightly, and then suddenly went rigid as he bit down and his cheeks muscles tightened.

“I did not intend to see anything you did not mean to show me, but I think your subconscious was trying to help me understand. I am an angel, not really a man, but I do not think this vessel is the real problem you have with us being close. I saw what your father said, and I saw how that made you feel. Dean I saw what you did… in the bar… how you… you wanted it Dean and then you hurt him because you were ashamed. Then there was Benny… I know you felt strongly for him. Dean, these feelings, these instincts were never wrong, and they were never bad. You were lied to, John was wrong, there is nothing wrong with you or the things you feel.”

Cas said it because it was the truth, he said it because they had been through multiple apocalyptic events and came out the other side, and he said it because he wanted Dean to be free of it. Of course, Cas truly could not understand why it was of any import to human beings who they loved as long as they did it freely and with full consent, but he had felt how it blackened Dean’s insides to recall these things. It was another trauma life had laid at his feet.

For the second time in two days Dean felt tears at the back of his throat. They were choking him, and a few had already begun to fall, unrestrained. He wanted to hit Cas, he could not help it: he wanted to shove him or punch him, or stab at him. He was saying things out loud that Dean had spent almost thirty years careful and purposefully not saying. The back of his t-shirt became slick with sweat, and he felt he might be sick. Cas had seen all of it, he had seen the worst. It was a memory that he buried so thoroughly that it never surfaced, and if it did he smashed it back down with any vice he could find. It had been when Sammy left, when he walked away the second time, and even Cas was not there for him. He found himself in a little dinky bar outside Omaha, and he was pounding back drinks so quickly that the edges of the room were going black. Then there was a man, he was probably ten years older than Dean, but still good looking, and he was staring him down like fresh fries under a heat lamp. Dean knew the look, and though he tried to look away, the alcohol decided differently. The bar was dark, but there were plenty of patrons. No one noticed when the drunk young hunter tilted himself forward off his bar stool and did his best sober impression walking toward the older man. Dean could not remember if they had spoken, or if they just found their way to the bathroom, even now his memory was blurry. The next thing he remembered was the man on his knees and Dean thrusting into his mouth. It was quick and desperate, but when Dean had finished the man kissed him, that was his mistake. That was when Dean hit him. It was only once but very hard, causing the man to double over against the wall of the bathroom. He had fled, not looking back, and buried the memory so deep that it lived in a dark place with images of hell. That night he had driven the impala, still drunk, onto the lot of a dark abandoned warehouse a few blocks from the bar to sleep it off. When he woke he told himself it was a bad dream, ignoring the fact that his jeans were still undone and that his knuckles were freshly bruised.

After all that time, all that effort to keep it buried, here it was in front of him. Castiel had seen. An angel, his angel, had seen it. He knew it was not Cas’s fault, Dean had wanted him to look inside his mind, maybe he wanted him to see that, too. Maybe in some way, it had been a confession, Dean wanted him to know how unworthy he really was. He knew that if it had been buried so deep, hidden so well that even Michael had not seen it, that it must be true. This was who he was, and Cas knew it now.

Cas stayed quiet for a long time, he could sense the battle happening inside the hunter. Finally, Dean let out a sob and bent forward, smashing his fists into the cushions. He stood quickly and picked up the lamp beside the couch, threw it so fast that Cas did not have time to react and it smashed against the bricks throwing bits of pottery across the floor. He went to overturn the table, but Cas caught him, his arms tight around him, bracing against him. The hunter struggled for a few moments reflexively, and then his shoulders slackened, and he buried his head into Cas’s shoulder tears falling rapidly, soaking the angel’s t-shirt.

That is when Sam came running in, breathless, “What…” he began but stopped when he saw Dean, the ultimate pillar of strength hunched over the Cas, gripping the angel so hard it would have left marks on mortal skin.

Sam thought he should probably walk away, he knew Dean would not want him to see this, but he found himself stuck in place. Sam did not need to know why Dean was crying, or why he was falling apart, he was just weirdly grateful for it. No one buried things deeper than Dean. Dean who had taught him to lie about how you felt, bury everything with a drink, and Dean who had stuck around to bear his father’s abuse until the bitter end. Sam had opened up to Eileen, and he had spent time in her arms, letting himself feel everything he had been taught not to feel, but he knew that compared to his brother, he was the poster boy for mental health. Cas finally looked up, and Sam simply nodded before turning and closing the door behind him.


	3. Ch. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean have a big talk. Then Cas and Dean try that again... until Moosus Interruptus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow this ch was missing when I first posted oops!

Dean did not remember Cas pulling him backward toward the couch, he just knew that he had been lying there for a long while his head in the angel’s lap as he rubbed small circles in on his back and shoulders. Eventually, there was a small knock on the door, Dean shot up reflexively, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Yeah,” he said.

Sammy walked into the cave, looking sheepish again, “Hey, sorry to bug you but get this, there was a wolf attack in Eureka. Eileen and I are going to check it out. Just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, standing up, “I’ll be ready in twenty.”

Both Cas and Sam looked at Dean incredulously.

“What?” He said finally, looking between the two of them.

“I just thought, you may want to stay here,” Sam said, wincing slightly.

Dean squinted in disbelief, “Since when do I stay behind? I’m coming Sammy.”

“Yeah… okay,” Sam said as Dean walked past him in a huff, “twenty then.”

Sam stood in the doorway, not sure where to look, until Cas broke the silence that even he knew was awkward 

“Sam, I have concerns about Dean hunting right now.”

Sam pushed on the bridge of his nose and exhaled, “Yeah, Cas… me too.”

“What should we do?”

Sam thought for a moment then asked, “Would you come with us?” 

Cas could imagine Dean’s response to being looked after, especially with Sam around, and it would not be desirable. 

“How about this, I’ll meet you there,” Cas smirked at Sam. 

“Yeah,” Sam replied, a hesitant smile on his face, “That might work.”

Twenty minutes later Dean was already sitting in the Impala when Sam swung open the door. 

Dean looked around, “Where’s your girl?”

“She decided to stay,” he smiled at Dean, “Figured we could handle one wolf.”

Dean smirked at his brother, but apprehension spread through him. He had assumed Eileen would be a buffer between Dean and his overly inquisitive brother. So, he turned up the radio as the sped out of the garage, and hoped Sam would feel like a quiet drive for the next four hours. 

To Dean’s relief, Sam did in fact spend the next few hours researching and messaging on his phone. Dean listened to a classic rock block of Zepp, The Who, Joplin, Hendrix, and even smiled when Yes came on. He tapped along to the rhythm and sang as many of the words as he knew, trying not to think about the last few days or the feeling of Cas rubbing little circles into his skin. It worked, mostly, but about three hours in Sam turned down the radio.

“So, looks pretty cut and dry. I guess there used to be a few wolves there that got cleared out a while back by few other hunters, but one must have slipped through because hearts started being ripped out last week. Two vics so far, and a lead on where to look.” 

“Not a bad start,” Dean shot Sammy a confident look, they had taken on a lot more with a lot less to go on.

“Yeah… should be quick,” he replied.

“Don’t worry,” Dean teased, “you’ll be back home to Eileen in no time.”

Dean did not realize it, but his little jab was just the segway Sam had been looking for.

“Yep, and you can go back to… hanging with Cas.”

Dean swallowed hard, he did not know whether to grimace or ignore the comment all together. His only consideration was which course would lead Sam off of this path of conversation.

He decided on a grimace.

“What?” Sam said, turning a bit in his seat, “You guys spent the night together, right? Just figured you may be starting something.”

Dean could feel the blood rising in this neck and his cheeks were hot with embarrassment, “It wasn’t like that… nothing... basically nothing happened.”

Sam tried to hide his smile, “Basically nothing?”

Dean felt a prickling at the base of his spine and he knew Sam was gearing up for a ‘big talk’. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white and gave Sam his most vicious look. Sam registered the look but was determined and so was undeterred by Dean’s bravado. He wanted to have this conversation not only for Dean, his repressed as hell brother, but also for Cas, who deserved better.

“Listen, Dean, no one has ever loved you more than Cas. I think it would be great if you two finally started something.”

Sam had not said it with an ounce of mocking as Dean had expected. In fact, the sincerity in his voice surprised and shook him off balance.

He looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye before fixing his gaze back in the road, “Are you serious Sam. You… you would be cool… I mean… you think I…”

Sam cut him off, “Yes, Dean. If you are into him that way, which I assume you are based on the way you look at him, I say go for it.”

“How do I look at him?” Dean said, offended.

Sam shook his head, “Like he’s a freakin’ piece of pie, Dean.”

Dean wanted to laugh at that but he felt too antsy, and too overwhelmed by his brother's nonchalance, “So you’re saying you have no issue with this? With me… if I liked… if I, ya know?” 

“Okay,” Sam said, clearly gearing up for the ‘big speech’, “I don’t want to annoy you or whatever but I have kinda always known you were into guys too, Dean. Honestly, I think you could flirt with a tree. I don’t really care, I just want you to be happy.”

Sam took a deep breath knowing there was one more thing he needed to say, “I know Dad said some shit to you, and I remember how he used to talk, but dad was wrong.”

“Huh,” Dean felt his stomach lerch, “you’re the second one to tell me that today.”

Sam smiled, assuming he meant Cas, “Well it’s true. You have nothing to prove to anyone.”

Dean was glad that Sam was good at the whole talking-it-out thing because he did not think he could have broached the subject himself, and he had certainly wanted to avoid it before. Now, he felt like he had Sam’s blessing, and although he would never admit it out loud, he needed it.

A few moments passed before Sam finally continued, “By the way, I know that’s what took Cas to the empty. I know what he told you, and man, please stop blaming yourself. That was Cas’s choice.”

Dean had heard Sam but he could not respond. He had spent months trying to trap that memory and bury it like something out of their lore, but it would come. He could be standing on the edge of hell and that would be the memory that pushed him into the abyss. He watched the lines on the road, the clouds passing overhead, as twilight was swiftly approaching, and tried to settle in the normalcy of it. Eventually, he turned the radio back up a little, and Sam adjusted back in his seat and looked at his phone again. There was truth to what he had said, Dean knew it, but he knew this was all going to take time. Suddenly though, he missed Cas fiercely. 

Sam wanted to check in when they got to the motel, so Dean parked Baby and grabbed their bags from the back. It was a clear warm day, but the wind blew fiercely and the sun was beginning to dip low in the sky, causing Dean to shiver inside his jacket. He hoped the room had better heat than the bunker. 

Sam stepped out from the lobby and handed Dean a key, “You’re twelve and I’m next door in fourteen.”

Dean looked at the separate keys, “Whoa, hold on there Rockefeller, since when do we do separate rooms? We aren’t exactly flush.”

“We can afford it Dean, plus…” Sam grabbed his bag from Dean’s grip, “Cas will be here soon, and I figured you two would have more… talking to do.”

As if he had been waiting for his queue Cas appeared.

“Hello, Dean,” he said, a contrite expression on his face.

Dean looked between Cas and Sam, shaking his head, “What? Now you two are in cahoots? I don’t like it.”

Sam just shook his head again, and headed toward his room. Dean followed him, willfully avoiding Cas, who was trailing behind him silently. Before Sam shut his door he told Dean to meet in fifteen minutes so they could go do a few interviews before checking out a few locations the wolf may be hiding. Dean nodded and then opened the door to his room. It was small, and the furnishing and decor were old, but it was clean which was more than he expected. Dean hung his garment bag in the closet and unzipped it, taking out his suit. It was a little faded from years of wear, but it still fit him like a glove.

“So,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and untying his boot, “you are my babysitter?”

He kicked his boot off so it landed by the angel’s feet and moved to the next, glaring at Cas. 

Cas rolled his eyes, “No, I am assisting you and Sam on this hunt.”

“Oh yeah,” he scoffed, standing and removing his jacket, “Then why didn’t you ride out here with us?”

“Sam thought you might protest my coming on a small hunt, and I agreed. You are very stubborn.”

Dean scowled as a reply. He was a little annoyed, but he was also glad that Cas would be with them. He was an asset on any hunt, of course, but that was not the reason. Dean started to undo his belt, but when he glanced up at Cas innocently observing him, and he felt instantly embarrassed. He had changed in front of Cas before, and he knew Cas had seen him in all his glory anyway as he had been the one to put him back back together after he had been on the rack. There was no denying though, it was different now: fraught with meaning.

Dean blushed furiously and turned to face the wall, he undressed as quickly as possible and put on his pants and shirt in record time. When he turned back around Cas was sitting in the little chair by the dresser, his eyes on the floor. Dean wondered if he had picked up on his sudden need for modesty, and felt his cheeks burning again. He did not know how things between he and Cas would now feel now: would everything feel new or were some things unchangeable? Either way, it annoyed him. 

Dean looked at the clock, there was still another five minutes before they had to leave. He wondered if he should just go knock on Sam’s door, but then Cas looked up at him, and he suddenly wished they had a bit more time. His talk with Sam had been uncomfortable, but it had been a blessing that Dean did not know he wanted but somehow truly needed. He thought about the quick, sloppy, drunken kiss he had given Cas the night before and felt his cheeks go hot again. He felt even more annoyed, blushing was not something men in their forties should do.

Dean decided not to let himself think, he did not allow himself a moment to doubt, he just tried to say what was on his mind. 

“Cas,” he said, “I’m sorry I was drunk when I kissed you.”

“It’s not important,” Cas stood and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. They both felt little sparks at the contact before he lowered his hand again, placing it in the pocket of his coat.

“Yeah,” Dean said, looking down at the worn maroon carpet, “Actually, it is man.” 

Cas, overwhelmed by a very human impulse, took a step toward Dean so that their chests were nearly touching but not quite, “Dean, It is not important to me. You have talked to me,let me comfort you, and you have let me be a friend to you. You have shown me inside your mind. You have given me so much when I know how difficult it is for you. I don’t need anything more from you, I am very happy just to be with you.”

There was something so earnest in Cas’s words that Dean could not scoff at then, or sarcastically quip, he could not even pretend to be modest or off-put, he could only take breath after shallow breath as his pulse quickened. He was not in control, he felt a lovely warmth spreading over his chest, and he could not stop from stepping toward Cas so that their chests were actually touching. Dean loved the way Cas looked in this moment, his eyes closed and lips parted the moment they came into contact, like a needy confession written all over his face. He took a shaky breath, leaning forward. 

“Fuck it, I’m going to try again,” Dean said against Cas’s lips before covering them in a soft kiss. 

That’s when Sam knocked on the door and Dean and Cas blew apart like they had been hit by Dean’s trusty grenade launcher. 

“You guys ready,” Sam said outside the door. 

“Yeah,” Dean shouted, his voice raw and gruff, his face flushed, “Coming Sammy.”


	4. Ch. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go after a werewolves! Dean and Cas move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two words: SMITING, SMUT

In general, Sam had spent years being put in the middle of Dean and Cas’s arguments, petty disagreements, and straight up bitch fights. He had endured the silent treatment, the inside jokes, the “profound bond” and, my god, the endless staring into each other’s eyes. He had heard all the comments from creatures and humans alike who seemed to read their relationship like a book. However, this was worse. They had come out of the hotel room flustered and jumpy, and during their interview with the first victims family he had caught Dean fidgeting with a loose string on the hem of his suit jacket — which was fairly insensitive considering that she was describing finding her husband with half his guts ripped out. When they got back in the car, Dean kept looking in the rearview mirror at Cas, and Sam rolled his eyes and looked out the window. Finally, they got to the cabin about an hour out of town where they thought the wolf might be hiding. The woman had said it was a family vacation spot, but they almost never went after her husband’s cousin disappeared four years earlier, a disappearance that just happened to coincide with the other murders. Sam and Dean did not believe in coincidences. The timeline added up, and a secluded spot was exactly where monsters would be. The brothers approached the front door while Cas went to scout the back of the cabin.

They were both taken aback when a woman answered the door, “Can I help you.”

“Yeah,” Dean held up his badge, “Detective Townsend and this is my partner Detective Daltry. We were looking wondering if you knew this man,” Dean showed her a photo of the victims missing cousin, “heard he had been seen around here, and he had been missing for quite a while.”

The woman shook her head, “Nah, doesn’t look familiar.” 

Dean saw a pair of men’s boots by the door, and leaned in, “Mind if we have a look around?”

“Actually,” the woman closed the door a bit, “I do. You need a warrant.”

“Since this cabin belongs to a murder victim, and his wife said it was vacant,” Dean smirked, “I don’t think we do.”

Suddenly the woman slammed the door, but Sam was fast and he pushed it open at the last moment. She turned on them, baring her fangs. Both he and Dean had their guns out before she could pounce, Dean let off one round. The silver bullet pierced her between the eyes, and she was down. Dean gestured to Sam, indicating for him to search the next room, but there was a shout, and Dean felt something push him forward, his gun nearly dropping to the ground. He spun off his stomach and aimed just in time to see Cas, on top of the other wolf, the one from the photo, he pressed his hand to the creature’s forehead, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. Sam and Dean both covered their eyes and light flooded the room and there was a cry. Just as suddenly, it dimmed and quiet filled the cabin. 

Sam did a perimeter check while Dean and Cas disposed of the bodies. It was a quick job, and the woods were quiet but they did not speak. The girl they buried looked like she could not be more than twenty and Dean wondered where her family thought she was. That was part of the job, gank or get ganked, but it did not make it any easier. Dean was glad there were less hunts, and less fights these days. He felt his age, he felt the aches and pains, but mostly he felt the unbearable weight of the job that he had been doing his whole life.

By midnight, Dean was driving them back to the motel. After the rest he had gotten the night before and the adrenaline from the fight, he already felt like a live wire, but it was compounded by the fact that he knew he would be alone with Cas again soon. He tried not to look into the rearview on the drive home, only glancing every few minutes always finding blue eyes on him. About half way back, Sam fell asleep against the passenger seat, and Dean smiled at his baby brother like he was just a kid. Albeit, a kid with a receding hairline and greys in his stubble. 

“Dean,” Cas said quietly leaning forward

“Yeah,” he replied, feeling the angel’s breath against his neck.

“When we get back, would you like me to leave?”

“What?” Dean said, confused, “Why?”

“I didn’t want to stay if you wished me to leave.”

Dean exhaled sharply, “No Cas… No. Stay.”

It was just before one am when they arrived back at the motel, Dean nudged Sam who woke with a start. They arranged to head out of town at ten the next morning, and then Sam went into his room, he was already Facetiming Eileen before the door even closed. Once Dean shut the door to their room, he and Cas stood there awkwardly for a moment, neither of them quite sure what to do. Finally Dean decided to be human for a moment.

“I’m gonna hit the shower,” he said grabbing his bag, and peering at Cas over his shoulder.

“I’ll just wait here,” Cas said, sitting in the same little chair he had earlier.

Never had Dean been more grateful for the hot water — decent water pressure was a true gift from Jack — that pressed into his muscles and relieved the tension from both the fight and knowing that Cas was waiting for him. Dean could not count the number of times he had been to bed with women, he just knew it was a lot. On the other hand, Dean could easily count the number of times he had really been with someone. He loved sex, he knew how to have good... no great sex, but really being with someone, with or without sex, was something different. To make matters worse, it had never been with a guy, and to make matters worse than that, it had never been with someone who he loved as much as Cas. The thought came to him before he could stop it, he had not said the words out loud, but he had thought it, and now he could not unthink it. Love, he loved Cas. He pressed his head against the cool shower tiles and tried to steady himself. There was a voice that Dean always heard, knew better than his own that was yelling at him to run, it shouted, “EVERYTHING YOU LOVE DIES!” He felt his hands and feet start to tingle but he took a few deep breaths and tried to remember that this was different. Chuck was not writing his story. Cas was not going to leave.

After quickly drying off with the world’s most scratchy bath towel and pulling on his sweatpants and t-shirt, Dean opened the door to the bedroom. Cas was still sitting in the little chair, reading something on his phone. Dean laughed a little at the idea of the angel having a cell phone, but he knew better: angels, demons, and monsters all had phones. Demons took particular pleasure from trolling people on twitter and tumblr, and Dean was sure that a few deals had been made over Facebook. 

Of course, when he looked up at Dean a little blush rose to his cheeks. Dean really hoped this would not keep happening. 

“So,” Dean said, throwing his duffle bag into the table.

“So?” Cas replied.

“I guess I’ll go to bed,” Dean said looking down at Cas.

Cas nodded, “Yes, you should rest.”

Dean knew that Cas would not take a hint, he was going to have to be very brave. He hesitated for a moment wondering if he was ready, but then he had a thought, clear and urgent and unlike him. He had been holding his breath for so many years, and maybe it was time to just let it out. 

He took Cas’s phone and placed it on the table and then he grabbed his hand, pulling him flush against his chest, pressing his forehead to the angel’s. He pulled back after a few seconds, and thrilled at the little sigh that escaped the Cas’s lips. Then he unlaced their fingers and pulled Cas’s face to his, kissing him deeply the way he had always secretly wanted to. The friction between them was so strong, Dean thought it might break him apart at first, but when Cas parted his lips and Dean felt the slick wetness of his tongue collide with his own, he knew he had already been broken. Cas grabbed the back of Dean’s shirt with one hand and pushed his fingers through his hair with the other. The kiss built and built, until they were both moving and breathing so frantically that neither of them were sure how they would ever escape it. Dean felt himself moving backwards as Cas pushed him gently so that his back was against the wall. He pressed his body into Dean’s and he felt Cas hard against his thigh. Dean thought a thousand wicked thoughts at once, and he knew that he was not ready for most of them, but the way Cas was biting at his lip and brushing his fingers against the exposed skin at his back, Dean knew he could get some of what he wanted. 

“Castiel,” he said, the name leaving his lips before he had time to think.

At hearing his full name, the angel pressed harder into Dean, his lips wild and feral against him. Dean could not help the groan that escaped. He slid his hands under Cas’s layers of trench coat and jacket until his hands pressed firmly against his waist. Dean wanted so much more but he was drowning in the feel of Cas; the weight of his arms, the firmness of his chest, and the angelic strength that corded through his muscles.

Dean pulled away from the kiss, his breath hitching and pushed Cas’s coat and jacket to the ground. He grabbed at the loose knot on his tie and pulled it over Cas’s head until he was standing in his dress shirt and slacks. Dean splayed his hands across Cas’s chest taking in the feel of his muscle and the warmth of his skin just under the surface. Then, he looked at Cas and began unbuttoning his shirt purposely and painfully slowly. 

Castiel was so full of want that he was nearly suffering, he had never felt anything so utterly human as this pure desire for Dean. It was powerful yet it made him feel weak, like he would break apart if he could not touch him. Dean had pushed layers of his clothing to the floor but did not seem like enough, and now he was pulling one button free at a time. He was letting Dean lead, letting him feel in control, but all he really wanted was to crush the hunter against the wall and take what he wanted. He loved Dean and he could never hurt him, yet he wanted to bite him, wanted to claw at him, he wanted everything from Dean that he could get.

Finally, when he had undone the last button Dean slipped his hands over Cas’s firm shoulders and pushed the shirt down his arms. Cas shuddered and his eyes fell shut as the hunter grazed over his bare skin. Dean saw the hollow of Cas’s hip bones and his mouth began to water. He ran his fingers over them slowly, and Cas watched his vessel shivering under Dean’s teasing touch.

“Cas,” Dean said, his voice even more husky than usual, “you feel really good.”

Cas practically hummed with pleasure, and he leaned forward catching Dean’s mouth with his own. Then they were falling toward the bed, Dean was pulling his shirt over his head and then Cas grabbed his arms as he pressed him into the duvet. He kissed the place where his hand had print was left on Dean’s shoulder and then moved his lips to the freckled skin of his chest. He wanted to map out Dean’s entire body with his lips, but before long the hunter pulled him back toward his open mouth. Dean had not felt so desperate since he was a teenager, he was not smooth or practiced in this moment like he was with women. Instead, he was frantic and needy, his hands and eyes were devouring everything they could catch. Suddenly, he froze, Cas had pushed his hand under the hem of his sweatpants, pressing firmly against him through his boxers. Cas froze too, hoping he had not gone too far in his drunken need to touch him. He recognized that he needed consent for this type of action, and so he started to pull away, but Dean quickly grabbed his wrist, keeping his hand in place. His pupils were blown out, and Cas was instantly back in motion, gripping Dean hard through the thin layer of fabric. 

“Dean,” Cas said in a breathy voice, “I cannot believe this is happening. I love touching you.”

Dean’s head pressed into the mattress and a chill ran through him at the sound of Cas’s voice. 

“Me too,” Dean said a little incoherently, pressing hands against the angel’s shoulder blades. 

Suddenly it was too much to not be actually touching - skin to skin - and Cas pulled his hand away from Dean. The hunter let out a little whimper, and Cas kissed him gently, before hooking his fingers on either side of his waist just under the layer of sweatpants and boxers. Dean caught his unasked question and nodded, watching as Cas pulled off what was left of his clothing. Then, Cas stood and started to unbuckle his belt, his eyes racking over Dean like a man dying of thirst looking at a rushing river. Dean’s heart was pounding violently and he fought to keep his breath under control. He had never seen Cas undressed, only just a glimpse — but it was dark and there were a lot of bees — and as much as he hated admitting it, he had always wanted to. He wondered what he would look like, if his hip bones were just as prominent where they ducked under his waistband and if his skin was just as soft, just as olive-toned where the sun did not touch it - like some sort of heavenly sun-tan. When he finally stepped out of his clothing, Dean was forced to admit something to himself: he wanted him, not just because he was Cas, but because he was beautiful. He thought before maybe this feeling only applied to Cas, but he knew better, he was not indifferent to the fact that Cas was a male vessel, he loved it. The fact that it was Cas climbing on top of him, just meant that instead of simple pleasure Dean felt nirvana. They both moaned loudly as their bodies came together, their hips moving in unison so that their cocks rubbed with each thrust. Dean knew he could not last long, and he felt a little embarrassed by the depraved way his body responded to Cas’s, but there was no hope for it. They kissed fiercely and Dean reached to take Cas in his hand. Cas mimicked his motions building pressure in time with Dean. They were kissing but they were sloppily, feverish kisses, mixed with loud moans and gasps of pleasure. Finally, Cas was spilling and the sight of it sent Dean over the edge. The angel’s eyes blazed a heavenly blue before he collapsed onto Dean, unable or unwilling to move. 

After a few minutes lying there, their breath and heart beats slowly steadying. They both found themselves laughing. Dean could have ten drinks but he would not feel as drunk as he did in Cas’s arms. He kissed the top of the angel’s head, his breath rustling his hair. After another few moments, they decided to clean themselves up and put their clothes back on, Dean lendt Cas a t-shirt and a clean pair of boxers. He had considered staying naked, but the room was chilly and he knew he needed some sleep — something that did not seem possible if Cas was beside him all night in the buff. Dean curled into Cas’s warmth, already used to the feel of his angel’s arms and smiled against his chest. 

“Cas,” Dean said, surprised by how soft his name felt against his lips, “I… no one has ever… I always held the girls I’ve been with. No one ever…”

Dean winced, there he was again, after everything they had just experienced, unable to string a sentence together. 

Cas understood, “You like when I hold you?”

Dean sighed, relieved, “Yeah, man. A lot.”

“I know,” he said, “I can sense how calm you are.”

“You can?” Dean asked peering up at the angel.

“Yes,” Cas replied, placing a gentle kiss on Dean’s forehead.

“Shit, I am getting soft.”

Cas was confused, he did not understand why this would upset Dean, “Would you like me to stop?”

“NO!,” Dean was frustrated again, trying to justify how he felt with how he thought he should feel, “No, I just feel kinda…I feel fucking weird. Like, I’m a grown man, and I want to be held like a little girl.”

Cas rolled his eyes, “Dean, somehow, I am going to try and un-teach you all the things you have learned that are so wrong. Everyone needs comfort, everyone. It was the first thing I noticed as my time with humanity made me more and more human myself. I needed contact, comfort, and even just a simple touch otherwise I felt like I was crumbling under the weight and responsibility of all the things we’ve been fighting. Anytime you wrapped your arms around me, however briefly, the burden seemed more bearable. Also, Dean, little boys and little girls need to be loved in equal measure, affection is not gendered.”

Dean did not respond, he just listened to Cas’s words and tried very hard to bite down all the snarky, defensive things he wanted to say. He was going to listen to Cas from now on. If he was honest he never really listened to him like he should have, he was always in battle, always trying to take charge. However, in the past few days, with his defenses down, Cas had said so many things Dean needed to hear, but never thought he would. He wrapped his arms more tightly around the angel and let sleep take him.


	5. Ch. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Eileen take a big step. Dean teaches Cas about seduction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Ch. is just a short fun little aside, light smut, but much needed relief from the angst

The next morning, not wanting to be privy to all their looks, especially after some of the noises he had heard coming from their room the night before, Sam opted for the back seat. Dean did not say a word, but his cheeks turned pink when Cas slid beside him. Halfway through the drive, Dean grabbed for Cas’s hand, and checking that Sam was not looking, he gently brushed a kiss over his knuckles before placing their joined fingers in between them on the seat. It felt so much more than good, it felt right to hold Cas’s hand. 

Eileen was in the war room when they got back and she ran straight to Sam and planted a kiss squarely on his mouth the second he stepped inside. 

“I love you,” she said to him after she pulled away from the kiss.

He broke out into a huge grin and picked her up off the ground, kissing her again. He then set her down and spoke and signed back, “I love you, too.”

Cas and Dean were both standing to the side, feeling confused and more than a little uncomfortable at this display. Finally, Eileen turned to them a huge grin on her face, 

“Can you believe he almost told me he loved me over FaceTime?” She explained, “I told him to shut his mouth and that when I saw him I would say it first.” 

She turned back to Sam signing, “I win.”

Sam bent down and kissed her, his eyes closing, and Dean grabbed Cas by the coat sleeve and dragged him back toward his room.

“That was about to get carnal,” Dean said, shutting his door, “Figured we had better clear out.”

“Yes,” he smirked, “They did not seem to recognize our presence once they were kissing. I can relate.”

Dean turned around at that, clearly amused at Cas’s attempt at flirting, “Is that right?”

Cas shook off his coat and laid it across the back of Dean’s chair, “Yes, I can understand how kissing your lover could distract you from all else.”

Dean winced, “Cas… please never call me your lover again.”

“You would prefer… what exactly?”

“Really,” Dean laughed, “we hook up once and we gotta label it?”

Cas frowned, if it were up to him, he and Dean would be called every endearment under the sun, “No, we can continue to be friends. Although, I would prefer if you did not call me your brother again.”

“Oh,” Dean could tell he had tripped a wire, he was not sure if he should backtrack or move on, “I… uh… Cas, of course, we are more than friends, but I just want to take it one day at a time. I don’t really do this much, ya know?” 

He smiled reassuringly looking at Cas from under his thick lashes, and Cas nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. Dean started to unpack, but he felt uncomfortable, he did not want to have another ‘big talk’ as he was fairly emotionally tapped out, but he also could not stand the idea of hurting Cas.

He tried again, “Did that bother you? When I called you brother?”

Cas looked up at the ceiling, and sighed, “It is difficult, because I wanted to be close to you. I wanted to earn back your trust, so I was glad, but I could not really be happy about it Dean. I wanted more, and so while I was content, no… I did not like it.”

“Yeah,” he said sitting beside Cas on the bed, “I get that, but the way I figure, I needed to put you as close to me as I could at the time. So that’s how I justified it.”

Cas looked at Dean, his eyes shining, “Thank you, Dean.”

That adoring look sent Dean over the edge, he could not remember every being looked at like that by anyone but Cas. He was sorry that he did not understand sooner, but he was glad to be with him now. Leaning forward he pressed his nose to Cas’s before placing a soft, reverent kiss on his lips. They parted expectantly, and Dean fell backward, pulling Cas down on top of him. They were so caught up in the moment that neither of them heard the knock at the door. 

“Oh!” Eileen shouted, then turned her eyes toward the ceiling, frozen in the doorway, “Sorry!”

Dean hopped off the bed, a bright flush covering his cheeks, he tapped on Eileen’s shoulder and got her attention before speaking, “No problem, what can we do for you?”

Eileen tried her best to hide her huge smile, “Sam and I are going to pick up a pizza, wanted to know if you would like some? Then maybe watch Lord of the Rings?”

“Yes to the pizza!” Dean replied, “And yes to the movie.”

“Okay,” she said, her eyes twinkling mischievously, and her smile spreading into beautiful supernova territory, “I’ll leave you two alone, and text when we get back. Probably about twenty minutes.” 

Dean shut the door, clicking the lock dramatically, “So.. where were we?”

“Well,” Cas began, “We were talking about the nature of our relationship, and then you were seducing me.”

Dean nearly choked, “What? I was not!”

“Weren’t you?”

Dean looked at Cas indignantly, “No! You were ripe for the picking, Cas. No seduction necessary.”

Cas tilted his head, clearly confused. Dean rolled his eyes dramatically. 

“I just mean, we were both into it, I wasn’t… ‘seducing’ you.”

“Oh,” Cas was considering this.

Dean unpacked his duffle, smiling as he tossed Cas’s boxers in the hamper with his own. 

Finally, Cas spoke, “I wasn’t aware that there was a distinction. So… seduction is when one of the parties isn’t interested.”

“Uh… No,” Dean answered, frowning, “That’s called being a creep. If someone isn’t interested, then you back off. It's more if someone is interested, and you know it for sure, but they are holding back.”

“Why would anyone hold back from you, Dean?” Cas asked, and once again Dean was hit by his utter innocence and sincerity. 

He suddenly had an idea, “Come with me.”

Cas followed Dean to the war room and pointed at the large table in the middle, “Sit here.”

“Okay,” Cas obeyed, confused by what he was supposed to be observing.

“So,” He smirked at Cas, “Sam and Eileen will be back any time now, right?”

Cas looked at the clock, it had only been about five minutes since they left, “I guess, less than twenty minutes. Why?”

“Kiss me,” Dean said, his eyes wide.

Cas did not need to be asked, twice, he pulled the hunter toward him by the collar and kissed him slowly but firmly. Dean pressed into him, his thigh between Cas’s legs, and deepened the kiss until Cas was panting against his lips. Dean started to unbutton Cas’s dress shirt when Cas caught him by the wrist.

“What are we doing?” 

“What does it look like,” Dean said, quickly unbuttoning the rest of Cas’s shirt and slipping his hands over his bare waist. 

Cas let out a gasp, “I don’t understand,” he was trying to speak but Dean was now nipping at his jaw, kissing little trails down his neck, “We should go back to your room.”

“Yeah,” Dean pulled back a little, letting his lips hover over Cas’s, “You think so?”

He let his lips brush Cas’s with every word, and the angel leaned forward, hungrily. Dean evaded him, pulling back and placing his hand firmly against his chest. He pulled off his flannel overshirt and placed it neatly on the chair beside him. Then he slowly lifted the hem of his t-shirt, exposing the skin at his waist. He took Cas’s hand, loving the way his fingers shook as he placed them over the hard muscles on his stomach. He watched the angel as he caressed the skin for a moment and then dug his fingers into his side, pulling Dean forward. The hem of his shirt fell back down, and Cas let out a frustrated breath as Dean pulled away from him again. Then, placing a hand on either side of Cas, he pushed the angel down onto the table, pressing into him so that their stomachs and groins were touching. Cas let you a little whimper, and pulled Dean down on him, kissing him feverishly, kissing him like maybe he would never get the chance to again. For a few minutes, Dean got caught up in it —the way Cas was pulling him down, the feel of his chest heaving beneath him, the way he was so wanted — but then he remembered the point he had been making and he rolled over, panting and glancing at the clock. 

He stood and grabbed Cas’s hands pulling him to his feet, he looked so bewildered that it made Dean want to push him back down all over again, but he did not want to be caught, not again. So, he pulled Cas back toward his bedroom. 

When they were safely inside Dean placed a quick, chaste kiss on the angel’s lips and started to change into his hotdog sleep pants, and a hoodie. The entire time Cas was standing watching Dean, the same bewildered look on his face. Dean was stifling a laugh when he turned and put on his most innocent expression.

“What’s wrong?” He asked facetiously. 

“What was the point of that?” Cas asked incredulously.

“Oh,” Dean started to explain, not hiding an ounce of smugness, “you were not sure what seduction was. I knew you would be uncomfortable in the war room when Sam and Eileen could show up any moment, but I also knew I would make you forget. See? You were seduced, feathers.”

Cas smiled his most crooked angelic smile, “Oh… well. Very effective,” he said looking down where he was straining against his slacks. 

Dean’s pupils went a little wider at this, but he took a deep breath. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and he handed Cas the same sweats and shirt he had slept in before. 

“They’re here, put these on.”

Cas dressed quickly and they were about to walk out Dean looked down at him.

“Cas,” he smiled, “I am very glad you were enjoying yourself, but do you think you could put that away?”

“I’m not sure how, I’m trying,” Cas said, sounding frustrated. 

Dean chuckled a little, suddenly flashing back to puberty, then it hit him, “Think about Chuck.”

“What?”

“Just do it, think about our last interactions with Chuck.”

After a few moments, Cas was presentable and Dean said, “yeah, that’ll do it,” before heading out of his room to meet Sam and Eileen.


End file.
